


Christmas 1530

by FeatheredShadow



Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Family Dynamics, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 21:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11655369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatheredShadow/pseuds/FeatheredShadow
Summary: No one had expected the two Princesses Mary - the Dowager Queen of France and the Heiress to the Throne - to be at court at the same time for the season's festivities.





	Christmas 1530

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AllegoriesInMediasRes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegoriesInMediasRes/gifts).



> Please forgive the historical inaccuracies.

“You ought to be proud of her, Harry.”

There was no chiding in the voice of the Dowager Queen of France, but Henry the Eight bit back a huff anyway, vaguely annoyed for a reason he couldn’t comprehend – or wouldn’t admit. Still, he kept his temper under check, not inclined to get into a row with his little sister. It was hard enough to get her to come to court these days, despite her husband’s best efforts, and her presence was worth the effort.

Still, if she decided to put her nose where it didn’t belong…

“I _am_ , Mary. My daughter is every inch the Princess she ought to be.”

Oh, she was still small and willowy for her age, not quite looking her fourteen years, but she had the grace and the poise, as well as the beauty, expected of a Tudor Princess. All eyes were fixed on her as she was dancing, admirative whispers making themselves heard here and there.

Henry couldn’t have been prouder.

_If only her brother Prince Henry had been there with them for Christmas 1530_ … but no, best not to let his thoughts wander down that path. He had promised himself he wouldn’t think of changing the past during the season’s festivities.

“She reminds me of you when you were younger,” Charles was saying on the other side of Mary, something very soft in his eyes, and Henry smiled a little.

His best friend was a happily married man and he couldn’t have been gladder of the fact. _At least one of them had a successful marriage_ – and he groaned internally, obviously unable to ignore his Great Matter any longer. The fact that both Anne and Katherine were bed-riddled because of the season’s sickness had caused quite a void at court until his sister had graciously accepted to come, but their absences were still felt by his courtiers.

No one had uttered a word in front of him, of course, but he could still see the way people were staring at his daughter, and then at his sister.

Some of her beauty had faded over the years and her health wasn’t as good as it had been, but she had assured him there was nothing to worry about. Her pregnancies had taken a toll on her and he spared a thought for his nieces, suddenly pondering the idea to have one of them staying close to his precious pearl.

He remembered all too well how he had needed the support and warmth of his attendants, when he had been a young Prince. Anthony, William, all the others… and _Charles_ , of course, devoted, loyal Charles whose support and presence had been unwavering.

Except when it had come to marrying Mary, but in retrospect, he should have seen it coming. He hadn’t expected his beloved sister to be so determined into wedding Charles as soon as she would have had the occasion, but sending him to retrieve her after the death of Louis XII hadn’t been the brightest decision he had made, knowing how attracted they already were to each other. Still, to think they had gone behind his back…

He frowned a little and shook his head before looking at the happily wed couple that was sitting close to him and felt the phantom of anger evaporating. They were happy together and he couldn’t – wouldn’t – hold it against them, not when his own marital life was in such troubles. He wanted his family to be in peace, and at least there were to be found in Suffolk estates.

“In fact, I shall like to dance with her. Mary, surely you and your husband would accompany us, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, it would be our pleasure, Harry,” she answered quickly a smile lightening up her face.

She still was a bit too pale for his taste, but he didn’t mention it.

And soon forgot it as he walked to his daughter, noticing happily how she was beaming at the opportunity of dancing with him. They hadn’t had many occasions to spend time together since he had sent her to Ludlow Castle and he found himself regretting it a little now. Surely, he could afford to give her more of his time, couldn’t he? The pearl of his world…

ooOoo

Mary knew that as a Princess of England and heiress to the throne she ought to be given attention, especially when she was coming to court, but having had the opportunity to dance with her father had been an especially delighting moment. It had happened rarely in the past few years, and knowing this was partly due to the fact her blessed mother hadn’t been able to attend the festivities had given the dances a slightly bitter aftertaste.

Still, her favorite aunt was also here for the season, playing the role of the Lady of the House that was expected of her in the absence of the Queen, and Mary was very glad of it. She had seen her so little since she had been sent to the Welsh Marches! And she remembered rather well how much her aunt had doted on her when she had been a little girl, always ready to play with her, sometimes bringing her own daughters…

Nevertheless, it felt a bit strange to be sitting in her aunt’s apartments, watching with fascination as the Duke of Suffolk was doting over her. She knew he was a loud and boisterous man, matching her father the King quite well in temper, but there was something very soft in him as he was around his wife – and even more in the privacy of their apartments.

Mary let out a soft, dreamy sigh, wondering if she too would have a man ready to brave _everything_ – even high treason! – for husband. She had heard the story so many times by now, but the romantic aspect of it all never failed to make her dream, in the privacy of her own rooms. Her father had been very kind in not punishing them, but surely, he too had realized how true love had driven their actions.

In any case, it was nice, being with her aunt for some time without having courtiers bustling around. They could talk more freely that way, especially now that the Duke had left to attend to her father, blessed may he be. Mary had become slightly more curious, now that she had grown, of the relationship between the two men. Kings weren’t supposed to have friends, per se, but she could have sworn there was real, deep, true friendship between them, despite the low birth of the Duke – and the fact that he had married the King’s sister without his approval.

And yet it all seemed to be quite the fairytale, wasn’t it?

She said so to her aunt, cheeks reddening slightly as the Dowager Queen of France started laughing quietly, careful not to have her honeyed wine spilling.

“Oh, Mary, my sweet niece, Charles isn’t quite Sir Galadriel. But I do suppose the tale of our marriage might make him look so, from the outside,” she added with a gentle smile, before taking Mary’s hand into her own.

“My dear, we Tudor Princesses like to choose our own husbands,” and the memory of Margaret, far away in Scotland, floated over them for a moment. “I might have been luckier than my dear sister, but…”

Her voice trailed off for a moment before she shook her head, a soft smile on her lips.

“Princesses rarely get to pick who they will marry, and especially not for their first wedding. It is fate that we can find a man of our own choosing, worthy of us, and that we can marry, if God wills it so.”

Mary nodded fiercely, too aware of the fate that was awaiting her. If she was lucky, she would have a comfortable marriage, where her temperament would complement her husband’s, but otherwise…

“You already knew His Grace before leaving for France,” she pointed out in a tentative voice, her thoughts wandering to her parents.

_The Lord Almighty would see that they would reconcile soon and for the better of England_ , she had decided, and had stuck to her line of thoughts, despite the gossips and rumors she had heard at court

“I knew Charles, that’s true,” the aunt answered with utter fondness before taking a sip of wine. “And the Lord knows my brother was outraged when the news of our marriage reached him, but… sometimes, Mary, you can see the hand of God in your decision. And when Charles came back to France, after the death of the king, I knew it was time for me to marry him.”

Mary listened to her, fascinated, and not quite realizing how the support of the new King, Francis, had been so crucial in the success of the secret wedding – or how her aunt had thrown all political cautiousness and carefully crafted diplomatic plans out of the window with her behavior.

Her aunt didn’t feel like showing the whole cold, hard truth of what had happened in these frightening, exhilarating days of early 1515. The Lord knew her niece was going to face some hardships in the future, especially if Harry stuck to his idea of marrying the Boleyn, girl, and if she could give her some hope for a happy, loving marriage, well then…

“It was quite a blessing in disguise that we spend the first months of our marriage in Suffolk estate,” she added, reminiscing those golden days with utter fondness. “Married life is full of surprises and having the opportunity of discovering everything there was to know, as husband and wife… it was quite wonderful.”

She smiled at Mary, noticing the dreamy look in her eyes, and felt her smile deepen.

The Lord knew her husband had his faults, but he had tried his hardest to make her happy and regain – and keep – Harry’s trust after their wedding. She wouldn’t have exchanged _that_ for another arranged marriage, no matter what kind of support it could have brought England.

And she hoped her niece would be as happy in her wedding as she was in her own.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is more than welcome :)


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